So I finally broke down and decided to have the garage sale. I need the room and keeping all this baby stuff isn’t keeping the kids babies, no matter how hard I try. So I posted my ads on Craig’s List and the West Seattle Blog for a baby and toddler gear sale. I took the box cutter to two boxes of diapers and painted the pieces of cardboard with signs to post in the neighborhood with the only paint I could find – drywall paint. Seems to be doing the trick. Then I set about putting prices on things.

I can’t begin to tell you how hard that was. And I’m not talking about going online to see what similar things were going for. I’m talking about the emotional toll. As I put the pricetag on the swing, all these memories came flooding back about how I put that thing together the first time when I was 9 months pregnant with Sweetness, how she used it as her bed those first few months. The tears started flowing. The breast feeding pillows were hard too – memories of all those hours together in that special bond you only get with your babies for such a short time. As I put the bouncer cover back on after carefully washing it, memories of registering for it then getting it at my first baby shower – a gift from my dear Seattle Whirly-girlfriend Lisa, flooded back, along with all the sweet memories of those last few weeks of total anticiaption for the birth of your first baby. I wanted to be a mommy for so freaking long, and once you get pregnant life suddenly speeds up, making Warp 10 look like molasses. Wasn’t it just yesterday I was longing to hold a baby and now I have a toddler and a very soon to be toddler? All those years of buying baby stuff for other people and my time with the baby stuff seems like it was so very, very short. This crap, my friends, is what hormones do to you. My breastfeeding days are numbered. I’ll maybe be able to make it to May, Mr. Man’s one-year birthday. The hormones are dying off and the thought of breastfeeding being gone forever, on top of all these adorable little baby things is just so hard. Oh crap, I’m crying again…

But the absolutely worst part of all was sorting the clothes into bins based on size. It took me two beers to do it. Memories of my babies in these adorable outfits were almost too much to bear. When I told my hubby that $1 a piece just seemed so cheap.

“People aren’t going to pay for memories,” he replied. You can always depend on a man to fully understand and be empathetic, can’t you.

I didn’t sleep well last night, tossing and turning. I drempt that I sold my house and couldn’t find a new one and had to live on the street. I drempt Johnny Depp was over and trying to keep me up all night by jumping on my bed (I can think of better ways to be up with Johnny all night, by the way). I drempt I forgot to have the garage sale and was suddenly relieved. I think I have real problems with being attached to material things. My memories and tons of photos are more than enough to cherish those fleeting baby years.

Ok, I’m just making myself cry again. I’ve cried five times alone while writing this. The people coming to the sale will think I’m totally psycho. Hey, come see the psycho lady, she’ll cry as you buy her stuff. The show’s free, though.

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Related posts:

1. Suck Up and Sell

OK, so it's not this bad, but you get the idea.

The other day I took a long look at my little house that is feeling so crowded. Yes, I’ve gone from me, two Chihuahuas and a cat to me, hubby, two kids and added hubby’s two cats. But we also added a bathroom and pushed the master bedroom out adding half as much more space to that room. But still, I am feeling crowded. Yet it doesn’t take Ty Pennington and the team from Extreme Makeover to point out my unique home style – decor by Fisher Price – may be the culprit.

In the living room/dining room area alone I have an infant swing (not used in weeks), box of toys, art easel, exersaucer, Johnny Jump Up, Boppy, Breastfriend, play kitchen with associated crap, and two dinning room chairs used for kids (one with a space saver infant chair ( it can’t fit up to the table) and one with a booster). That’s not counting what Sweetness could drag out of her room at any moment, which typically could be – train set, stroller with dolly, various vehicles, and riding toys. Oh the humanity of my little ranch. I need a family room.

Then there is the stuff piling up in the garage – two strollers, infant car seat with two bases, infant bouncer seat, shopping cart seat cover, Baby Bjorn, infant floor gym, and a diaper pail.

Part of me is screaming “GARAGE SALE!!” I’m thinking of the money I can make off this and perhaps have the vacation my doggy’s surgery took from the budget. Or, I could use the cash to buy the next batch of crap the kids will need. My garage would have more space and a corner of my living room where the swing sits.

Then the hormones grab me by the throat and throttle me like a wet doll. “These are the precious little things people gave you for baby showers and that you bought in extreme excitement for your babies’ arrivals. Selling them off is getting rid of memories. You’ll never have any more babies,” the evil hormones say. Then I get all nostalgic to the point where I actually played the music on the gym one last time, even though the batteries were dying and it sounded terrible.

I know this is all so very stupid. What am I going to do, save all this crap forever? My mom saved some stuff, claiming I could use it, or she could with my kids when they came over. Guess what, I never did, and neither did she. Can’t use that excuse for my kids. There are people out there that can’t afford brand new stuff and could use my well cared for stuff, before it is obsolete or beyond it’s use-by date (in the case of the car seat).

I know that when the time comes for this stuff to really leave, I will cry really hard as it walks away. I spent so many years wanting to be a mommy. I knew I wanted to be a mom since I was a little girl (even chose the name of my daughter when I was 12) and was really feeling the urge for 10 years before Sweetness was born. All those years and the trappings of those precious infant months are in your life for such a short time.

You know, I might just have to suck it up. And by suck it up, I mean leave the hubby to sell off the stuff while I hide in the back room/take the kids to grandma’s for the day/drink myself into oblivion.

Thank you for subscribing to my RSS feed at Heligirl: Positive Discipline Mommy! I would love to hear your comments and feedback on Suck Up and Sell. If you have a blog yourself, I'd love to check it out and possibly even link to it here!
Thanks for reading! Heligirl: Positive Discipline Mommy

Related posts:

1. The Big, Very Hard, Day
2. Another Use for the Kitchen Sink
3. New Schedule